What If?
by thelonglostpotter
Summary: Harry and his twin, Emma, return to Hogwarts for their 6th year. Everything changes, this year. But the cause of it is far too unimaginable to be accepted. A battle for love and what's right erupts in Emma's world and it's up to her to figure out what happens next.


Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine; I'm just playing around with J.K Rowling's brilliant HP universe**

As moonlight slowly seeped into the smallest and messiest room of no. 4 Privet Drive, Harry and Emma Potter were deeply sleeping. Harry's soft snores disturbed the silence that had long overcome their small bedroom. Across the bedroom floor, lay newspapers and pamphlets, which the twins had been studying during the day.

Several headlines had been cut out and stuck on the messy pin board that the two shared on the left wall. Headlines including 'SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE' and 'YOU-KNOW-WHO'S RETURN' stood out on the board surrounded my photographs of the new Minister of Magic and other ministry workers as well as several articles the twins had found particularly interesting. Along the bottom of the board, hung Ministry approved pamphlets, warnings about dealing with this dark time and what to do in case of emergencies. It was all rubbish in Harry and Emma's eyes but they kept them all the same, anything that would keep them up to date with the Wizarding world was of use to them.

In one corner of the board, Emma had stuck a whole front page, 'HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?' read the headline. Along with the article, which was written by Rita Skeeter so was obviously just full of nonsense, was a large picture of Harry which had been taken just moments after the fight at the Ministry at the end of the pervious school term. Harry was at the front of the picture, looking emotionlessly at the camera, Dumbledore was beside him with one hand on Harry's shoulder. Emma did not put up the photo because of her brother's obvious discomfort with the situation, but for the rest of the image. Behind her brother and headmaster stood the rest of the small part of the DA that had fought that day. Behind Harry, on the left of the image, stood Ron and Ginny Weasley. Ron had his arm protectively around his younger sister and would squeeze her shoulder occasionally as silent tears fell down her face still in shock after the events. On the other side of the picture, was Luna Lovegood supporting a rather battered Neville Longbottom. Emma stood flanking Harry, looking worried over her brother's emotionless state. The picture showed her reaching forward to hold her older brother's hand. This picture was a terrible reminder of that night, but Emma could not help but put it up. It was also a reminder of their bravery and loyal friends.

Emma rolled over in her sleep, muttering. She was dreaming again.

_He screamed and cried out in pain as the Dark Mark was branded to his arm, tears streaking his pale face. The dark shadow approached him with a potion in hand._

_"For the pain." He whispered. "It'll take away the pain."_

_The shadow opened the boy's mouth and helped him take the potion. The boy groaned again as the pain numbed slightly. He lay on the floor, panting, not daring to move. The shadow was quick to rise and it disappeared even faster than when it had appeared._

_The all was black apart from one quick flash of pained, silver eyes._

"Emma?"

Emma heard the voice calling her, but didn't not make a move; she was too focused on holding on to that dream. It was all becoming too hazy too fast.

"Emma!"

Harry was shaking her now. Emma's bright, emerald eyes snapped open and she took in the sight of her brother.

"Harry…" Emma mumbled, trying feebly to push him off her. "Gerroff me!"

"Are you alright, Em?" He asked her desperately, his eyes wide with worry.

Emma groaned, she'd obviously made it clear she'd been having a bad dream. "I'm fine." She said. "It was just a bad dream." As soon she'd said it, she was regretting it. She could see Harry's mind going into over drive.

"Like _that _kind of bad dream?" He asked her, his hands holding tightly onto her shoulders.

"No, Harry." Emma sighed. "Unlike you, dear brother of mine, I don't have a connection to Voldemort."

"But-" He began, but was cut off.

"No, Voldemort wasn't in it." Not technically a lie, she figured. "No, nobody died. No, I will not tell Dumbledore."

"Emma I just-"

"I'm fine Harry." She gave her brother a half smile before wriggling out from his grasp and jumping at the door. "And I call first dibs on the bathroom." She called over her shoulder as she pulled open the bathroom door and slipped inside, leaving her brother rather confused one his sister's bed.

Emma quickly shut the door behind her and collapsed on the bathroom floor with her back against the door before taking a deep breath and trying to recollect her dream. All she could remember was someone crying (perhaps in pain?), the Dark Mark and a shadow. A familiar colour of silver kept flashing through her mind but she shrugged it off, deeming it irrelevant. She stood up and punched the sink in frustration. She whimpered in pain, cradling her injured hand. As tears began to form in her eyes, her control barriers slipped and let loose her emotions, she began to sob uncontrollably.

"Everything ok in there, Emma?" She heard Harry call from the corridor.

"I'm ok." She let out a hoarse whisper, trying not to cry.

"Emma, I'm coming in." She heard him say but before she could protest, Harry had already opened the door. Emma inwardly cursed at herself for not locking the door.

Harry took one look at his sister's tear streaked face and stepped forward to envelope her in a hug. Emma slumped into his embrace and Harry slowly lowered them onto the floor. They'd both been rather emotional this summer, what with last year's happenings and Harry was rather accustomed to comforting his little sister in these moments. He knew that something was up but didn't question her; he knew that if it was really bad she'd talk to him.

Emma sniffled again and buried her face in her brother's chest as he hugged her tighter.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"No need to be, Emi." He stroked her hair soothingly, using her childhood nickname. "It'll all be ok, I promise."

They sat there for what seemed to be hours but it was really only a matter of minutes. The moment was interrupted by their Aunt Petunia's shrill screech.

"Girl! Boy! Get down here, now!"

Harry gave an exasperated sigh and pulled away from the hug slightly to take a look at Emma.

"Your hand?" He gasped at the sight of her fist which was already bruising, luckily it didn't seem as though she'd dislocated or broken and knuckles.

"Pain potions?" Emma managed to say, her green eyes wide and pleading.

Harry hastily hoisted her up and supported her back to their bedroom. He pulled up one of the loose floorboards and handed Emma a vial of pain potion. During second year Emma had taken it upon herself to learn how to brew the potions. It was advanced for a second year but, being somewhat of a prodigy at the art, Emma had little trouble with it. She had brewed large batches before every summer since then to keep them stocked for summers with the Dursleys.

"Thanks." She said quietly before downing the vial. Instantly the pain was gone, the bruising would have to remain as they'd run out of the bruise paste but she didn't really mind.

Harry looked at her sympathetically, not wanting to say anything so that she could have a chance to calm down. They were out of calming draughts too. He picked up his clothes and left for the bathroom, leaving Emma with her thoughts.

When Harry had returned, Emma was standing, once again examining the pin board. As she heard him enter the room, she turned and crossed her arms.

"I thought I had first dibs on the bathroom?" She said, accusingly.

"Oops?" Harry shrugged, a playful smile beginning to form on his face.

"Urgh!" Emma groaned at his almost Slytherin cunning before rolling her eyes and passing him to take her turn in the bathroom.

She closed the door behind her and turned to look in the mirror. She sighed as she ran her hairbrush through her knotted hair. Her green eyes stood out on her pale face, framed by her long, dark and thick lashes. Her tangled hair was eventually presentable. The long, black waves hanging around her face reaching the bottom of her ribcage. It always surprised her when people said she and Harr looked alike. She always thoughts it was the hair and the eyes because if one looked close enough, they'd see past that. Harry had their father's facial features while Emma had their mother's. Emma sighed; she knew people only ever commented on their likeness to their parents to get their attention.

"BOY! GIRL!" Came Uncle Vernon's sudden shout.

Emma jumped before racing downstairs to help with breakfast; Harry was hot on her heels. They didn't want to get on their aunt and uncle's bad side with their impending rescue so close!

_Dear Harry and Emma,_

_If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays._

_If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you._

_Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,_

_I am yours most sincerely, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

"Why am I only just seeing this now?" Emma demanded as she began throwing her belongings in her trunk. It was now nearly eight o'clock and she had just heard the news of their rescue.

Harry shrugged non-committedly as he lounged on his bed, twirling his wand. "Dunno." He said.

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes as she slowed her packing. "You don't think he'll show?" She always could read her twin like an open book.

"Well it seems a bit odd, doesn't it?" Harry asked. "We've only been here two weeks."

Emma was quiet for a moment. They usually had to stay with their relatives for at least a month each summer, maybe Harry had a point was right.

"Either way," Emma sighed and returned to her packing. "Dumbledore said he's coming so we might as well pack."

As she turned around, Emma heard him muttering grumpily but decided against talking to him on the matter. Instead she decided to close their owls' cages. Her own snowy owl, Nova, ruffled her feathers slightly at the clicking of the lock, but gave no other objection to being locked in, however Hedwig, Harry's owl, began a rather loud protest. She flapped her wings, rocked the cage and began hooting.

"Your owl Harry!" Emma called to him, over the racket that Hedwig was now making. "A little help here?"

She heard Harry's groan, followed by the creaking of his bed as he stood up the help her.

"Stop it, Hedwig." He commanded, looking the owl directly in her eyes. Instantly the racket ended and she settled down, letting Harry lock her cage.

"Look at me, can't even handle a ruddy owl." Emma muttered as she returned to her bed and lay down, drifting into deep thoughts. It was common knowledge that Hedwig disliked Emma but she was in too much of a state to shrug it off, as she normally would've.

"You alright Em?" Harry asked, his tone patient but Emma could tell he was worried. She needed to snap out of this, if not for her own sake, for Harry's.

She sat up and forced a smile. "I'm fine, really." She tried. Seeing that she was not convincing him, she tried again. "I'm just tired and before you ask, yes I am sure."

She rolled over and stared at the wall hoping Harry would get the idea and drop it. Her head was too muddled to talk about it all now and Harry didn't need anything else on his plate.

A few hours later, the twins were still in their room, both deep and lost in their thoughts. Emma had drifted over to Harry's bed somewhere around nine o'clock and they'd been sitting there in embrace since then, but not talking. Emma was staring out the window at a streetlamp when the light suddenly disappeared, leaving the room very dark. Emma jumped at the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Harry!" She whispered, jogging him out of a light sleep.

"What? Where? Huh?" He exclaimed, drawing his wand. Emma jerked her attention to the window, turning his attention to the darkness of Privet Drive. "Oh." He said quietly.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell disturbed the silence. Emma glanced at the clock, it was eleven o'clock.

"Come on!" She whispered to Harry as she crept towards the door, planning to head down the stairs in hopes that their aunt and uncle hadn't been woken.

As they reached the top of the stairs they heard Uncle Vernon shout, "Who the blazes is calling at this time of night?"

Emma heard Harry gulp loud and clear; it was obvious that she wasn't the only one not told of the possibility of Dumbledore's arrival.

The door opened to reveal the Headmaster himself, donning a long purple and blue robe decorated with shimmering stars. "Good evening," He said. "You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry and Emma have told you I would be coming for them?"

"Well I would've had I known." Emma muttered sarcastically as she and Harry ran down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. The twins came to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught them to remain out of arm's reach of their uncle whenever possible. There in the doorway stood Professor Dumbledore, looking just as odd as always. Harry and Emma couldn't imagine how odd it must be for Uncle Vernon to see him if they saw him as weird for a wizard. Vernon was standing there in a disgusting puce dressing gown, staring at the visitor as though he couldn't believe his pig-like eyes.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, I'll assume that you were not warned that I was coming," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "However, let's assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled time."

"He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind him.

"It's been a long time since my last visit," commented Dumbledore, peering over his half-moon glasses at Uncle Vernon. "I must say, your agapanthuses are flourishing."

Vernon said nothing at all. Emma didn't doubt that speech would return to him, and soon – the vein on their uncle's temple was beginning to throb, almost to a dangerous point. However, something about Dumbledore seemed to have frozen him and stopped him from lashing out. Maybe it was the obvious wizardishness of his appearance and attire, or somehow, Vernon may have realized that this was not a man to mess with.

"Ah, good evening Harry, Emma," said Dumbledore, looking at them with a satisfied expression. Emma scowled slightly at being addressed second, as always, but knew this was not the time to complain. "Excellent, excellent."

These words seemed to wake Vernon from his trance. It was clear that anyone who would look at the twins and say 'excellent' was not a man he would stand to be around.

"I don't mean to be rude –" he began, in a tone that suggested whatever he planned on saying would in fact be very rude indeed.

"- Yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often," Dumbledore finished for him gravely. "Best to say nothing at all, dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia."

Emma could've hugged her Headmaster for showing up her wretched uncle so but didn't get a chance as her aunt entering from the kitchen interrupted her thought. Her attire was complete with rubber gloves and a housecoat over her nightdress. Her horse-like face was an image of pure shock when she registered the guest.

"Albus Dumbledore," said Dumbledore, when Vernon failing to introduce him to his wife. "We have corresponded, of course." Emma thought this was a weird way to remind Petunia of his sending her an exploding letter, looking at Harry she recognized the same thought, but Aunt Petunia did not challenge the term. "And this must be Dudley, your son?"

Dudley, master of brilliant timing, had chosen that moment to peer round the living room door. His big blond head suddenly appearing over the collar of his striped pajamas was a rather odd look and along with his mouth gaping in astonishment and fear, he was a rather funny sight. Dumbledore left a moment or two to see if any of the Dursleys would say anything, but as silence stretched on, he smiled.

"Shall we assume that you have invited me into your sitting room?"

Dudley scrambled to get out of the way as Dumbledore passed him. Harry and Emma jumped down the last few stairs and followed Dumbledore, who had settled himself in the armchair nearest the fire and was taking in his surrounding with an expression of interest.

"Sir?" Emma tried to get his attention hesitantly.

"Aren't – aren't we leaving, sir?" Harry asked anxiously, speaking for both himself and his twin.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first," said Dumbledore. "And I would prefer not to do so out in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer."

"You will, will you?"

Vernon demanded, entering the room flanked by his wife and son.

"Yes, I shall." Dumbledore said simply.

He rapidly drew his wand and, with a casual flick, her caused the sofa to zoom forward and knock the Dursleys' knees out from under them so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position. Emma had to admire the man; he really did have style.

"We may as well be comfortable," he said pleasantly.

As he replaced his wand in his pocket, Emma noticed that his hand was black and shriveled; it looked as though his flesh had been burnt away.

"Your hand – sir -?" Emma began, just as Harry said. "Sir – what happen to your -?"

"Later, children," said Dumbledore. "Please sit down."

Emma resisted the urge to grumble at being referred to as a child, she was nearly sixteen after all. Never the less, she sat in one of the remaining armchairs while Harry took the other, both ignoring the Dursleys who seemed to be stunned into silence.

"Now, I would've assumed you were going to offer me refreshment," Dumbledore said to Vernon. "But the evidence so far suggests that would be far too optimistic, foolishly so I would say."

"A third wave of his wand and a dusty bottle and six glasses appeared in mid air. The bottle tipped and poured a generous volume of honey-coloured liquid into each glass, which then all floated to a person in the room.

"Madam Rosmerta's finest, oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore, raising his glass to the twins, who caught hold of their own and sipped. Emma had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely. The Dursleys, after quick, scared looks at each other, tried to ignore their glasses but found the task incredibly difficult as they were nudging them gently on the sides of their heads. Emma couldn't help suspect that Dumbledore was rather enjoying himself.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, turning towards Emma's brother, "a difficulty has arisen which I hope you'll be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all I must tell you both that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago and it seems he has left the two of you everything he owned."

On the sofa, Uncle Vernon's head turned, but neither Harry nor Emma looked at him. It seemed Harry and Emma were now the ones lost for words. Emma was too busy wondering why she'd been left anything at all, Sirius was Harry's godfather, not hers. Harry seemed conflicted my his emotions. All he managed to say was, "Oh. Right."

"That is, in the main, straightforward," Dumbledore went on. "You add a reasonable amount of gold to the Potter vault at Gringotts and you each inherited several of Sirius's personal possessions. The slightly problematic part of the legacy -"

"His godfather's dead?" said Uncle Vernon loudly from the sofa. Dumbledore and both twins turned to look at him. The glass of mead was now knocking quite insistently on the side of his head; Vernon still attempted to beat it away. "He's dead? His godfather?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, not asking why Vernon hadn't been informed of this. "Our problem," he continued to Harry, as if there had been no interruption, "is that Sirius left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

"He's been left a house?" said Uncle Vernon greedily, no doubt trying to think of ways that he could benefit from all of it. Nobody answered him.

"You can keep it as Headquarters," said Harry. 'I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it." Emma understood why her brother was so adamant not to keep the house. She would've been surprised if he ever wanted to go near it again. There were too many memories of Sirius there, good and bad.

"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated the building temporarily."

"Why?" Emma asked, suddenly feeling the need to join in the conversation.

"Well," said Dumbledore, ignoring Vernon's irritated muttering about his glass of mead, which was now smartly rapping him on his head. "Black family tradition states that decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of Black. Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants Harry, here, to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

Emma nodded; this made perfect sense to her. In the corner of her eye she saw Harry shudder, no doubt recalling the portrait of Sirius's mother that hung within Grimmauld Place. Emma smirked slightly. She remembered how she and Harry had received a rather unwarm welcome from Walburga Black but Emma was promptly asked for forgiveness when the woman realized she was a Slytherin. Harry, however, had not been so lucky. "I bet there has." He said.

"Quite," said Dumbledore. "And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Without much warning, Harry suddenly sprung to his feet and said, "No!" in a very strong voice. Emma stood too and gently lowered her brother back into his seat, gently rubbing his arm in an attempt to calm him. She knew why he'd reacted like that. Bellatrix was Sirius's killer. Of course Harry wouldn't want her to have his house whether he cared for it or not.

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it, either," said Dumbledore calmly. "The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves placed upon it, for example, making it unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position."

"But how are you going to find out if I'm allowed to own it?"

"Fortunately," said Dumbledore, "there is a simple test."

He placed his empty glass on the table beside his chair but before he could do anything, Uncle Vernon shouted, "WILL YOU GET THESE RUDDY THINGS OFF US?"

Emma looked around; all three Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, the contents flying everywhere.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Dumbledore politely, as he waved his wand again. All three glasses vanished. "But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know."

It looked like Uncle Vernon was about to explode with rage and seemed he was holding back all sorts of unpleasant retorts, but he just shrank back into the couch with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. None of them spoke but Uncle Vernon never took his pig-like eyes off Dumbledore's wand.

"Now, Emma," said Dumbledore, suddenly turning to face her. "Am I right in assuming your brother has not packed, being doubtful that I turn up?"

Emma rolled her eyes and nodded. She assumed this was when she'd be dismissed to pack her brother's things while they sorted something out that didn't mean much to her. She didn't care though, for once, she recognized that if Harry's stuff was packed by the time they were done then they could leave quicker. The sooner the better was Emma's honest opinion. She stood before Dumbledore could even say the question. As she headed out of the room, she gave the Dursleys one last dangerous glare before heading up to her and Harry's room.

As Emma walked up the stairs, she heard a sudden Crack! from the living room. 'Of course!' She thought. 'How else would they test the ownership so simply.' She knew that Dumbledore had summoned Kreacher, the Blacks' old house elf, to test whether or not he would answer to Harry. Therefore naming him Kreacher's master and owner of Grimmauld Place.

It took Emma a bit more than ten minutes to pack down all of Harry's stuff; the Invisibility Cloak was under the bed, his jar of Colour-Change Ink needed to have the cap screwed on, his trainers and telescope lay where they'd been dumped on the floor. Finally, after exerting huge amounts of effort to close the lid of her brother's trunk over his cauldron, they were fully packed and ready to go. She'd already heard the second Crack! signaling that Kreacher had left so she quickly activated the feather-light charms on hers and Harry's trunk and carried them downstairs.

"I only ask this:" Dumbledore was saying as she rejoined the in the living room. "That you allow Harry and Emma to return, once more, to this house, before their seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

The Dursleys were silent. Dudley looked like he was trying to figure something out. Emma hoped, for his sake, he would give up before giving himself too much of a headache. Petunia looked, flushed? And Vernon still looked like he was chocking back insults. Emma figured she couldn't have missed much. She'd ask Harry later anyway.

"Well then… time for us to be off," said Dumbledore finally. He stood casually and straightened his cloak, Emma and Harry followed suit. "Until we meet again," he said to the Dursleys who looked like they really hoped that day would never come. After doffing his hat, he swept from the room.

"Bye," said Harry before hastily following Dumbledore.

Emma didn't say goodbye. She just glared at her relatives before stalking out the door.

Dumbledore paused beside the twins' trunks. "Is this all?" he asked.

Harry facepalmed. "Hedwig and Nova!" he said before running upstairs. Emma decided just to wait for him seeing as he'd remembered her owl too. Sure enough, Harry soon came bounding down the stairs, two snowy owls in cages in hand. "Your welcome," he muttered sarcastically to his sister.

"I packed your truck," Emma retorted smirking when Harry had the decency to look sheepish. Packing his trunk was not an easy task.

"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand again. "I shall send them to The Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you to bring the Invisibility Cloak, just in case."

Harry looked at Emma. "It's on top," she told him, again not making a move.

Harry quickly pulled out the Cloak, luckily Emma had packed for him so it wasn't too difficult of a task. When he stuffed it in his jacket pocket, Dumbledore waved his wand and the trunks, cages and owls vanished. Dumbledore then waved his wand one last time, opening the door to the cool, misty darkness.

"And now, children, let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."

Emma didn't have a clue what he was on about, from the looks of things, neither did Harry. Either way, the two followed their headmaster into the night.

**Ok so I know it's very alike the book right now, yes I did take a few things word for word, but that's because I want to keep it as true to the books as possible with the added factor of Emma. I promise that it will become a lot different, it's only this chapter.**

**Anyway, I hope you liked it!**

**Remember that the review button is there for a reason ;)**

**Thanks for reading!**


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